


Doorknobs, Birthday Parties, and Two Truths and a Lie

by MermaidMayonnaise



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, Soulmates, it's also 7k which means I spent 7+ hrs on it so say what you will, this isn't the stupidest thing I've written but it's up there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMayonnaise/pseuds/MermaidMayonnaise
Summary: Not necessarily in that order.-“Teyla,” Rodney asked, “do you think I’m capable of finding love?”Ronon choked on his food. Teyla froze, halfway in her chair. “I think… it’s a viable option,” she said carefully.“Yeah, but here’s the thing. Atlantis desperately needs a ZPM.” Rodney shoveled pancakes into his mouth. “And imagine the effect that love might have on me.”“I try not to,” Ronon said.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 34
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of nowhere. I really have no excuse.

“I have to do  _ what  _ now?” Rodney said, baffled.

“True love’s kiss,” the matriarch of PY4-5172 repeated. 

“McKay has a  _ soulmate?”  _ Ronon asked. Rodney looked for Teyla to smack his arm, but she was just as confused. 

“I thought that friendship was merely the continued exposure to the same people with mutual respect. I did not believe soulmates even existed.” Teyla glanced sideways at the matriarch. “Are you quite positive that you are correct in this manner?”

The matriarch pointed to a crimson rod on the wooden door next to them that blinked and flashed. “Of course. It is a great honor, Dr. McKay. The Great Red doesn’t light up for just anyone.”

For possibly the first time, Rodney cursed the effective gene therapy. “Why couldn’t it have been Sheppard? He’s always getting himself into stupid situations like this.”

“You mean touching dumb shit,” Ronon said. “No, this time it was you.”

“I thought it was a doorknob!” Rodney cried. “Plus, it’s the luck of the draw. All of the stupid shit always happens to Sheppard.”

“So you’re saying,” Sheppard batted his eyelashes, “that it was meant to be?” 

Ronon put his hands to his mouth and said, “Oooh!”

“What are we in, third grade?” Rodney snapped. “Anyway, soulmates aren’t real. I bet the first person I kiss will resolve this stupid situation.”

“Are you ready to bet?” Sheppard said eagerly.

Rodney scowled at him. “No.”

Ronon put something that closely resembled a wallet back into his dreads with a sour expression.

“Well,” Rodney said, adjusting his TAC vest. “This was an extremely productive excursion. Not only did Teyla secure new allies”—Teyla gave the matriarch a solemn head nod, and she smiled back—“but we also got a new supply of grain, and oh! An attempt at meddling into my love life. Too bad there aren’t any consequences for this, and”—he checked his watchless right hand—“look at the time! Back to the Stargate we go.”

“About that,” the matriarch said in a somber voice. “There is a terrible curse for those who do not connect with their soulmate in time.”

“That’s unrealistic,” Rodney said. She looked at him. “Why does everything have to have a life-threatening consequence with you guys? Can’t some technology be beneficial without a cost? But I digress. First of all, there’s no guarantee that my soulmate, if she exists, is in the near vicinity. She could be back in the Milky Way Galaxy. She could be younger or older than me. She could even be a different species! I don’t think I’m ready to give a booty call to a Wraith hive queen. I just got out of a committed relationship. It’s been a very emotional time for me.”

“But you don’t have feelings,” Ronon said. Rodney held up a finger.

“That’s beside the point. I don’t really have time to go galavanting through various worlds to find my One True Love. I have to keep the idiots masquerading as physicists in line. They’re in my lab.  _ My lab.  _ Do you understand the trauma I go through every day just trying not to wring Kavanaugh’s neck?”

“The Great Red will take everything into account.” The matriarch looked bored instead of cowed. “The only consequence of not finding your soulmate will be unhappiness your entire life.” 

Rodney, who had never been happy a single day in his life, didn’t think that sounded too bad.

“Also,” the matriarch added, “seeing your interest in so-called Ancient technology, we have a vault in which we keep our most treasured objects. Maybe some of them were made by the Ancestors.”

Rodney whipped out a picture of a ZPM from his pants pocket. “Do any of them look like this?”

The matriarch pursed her lips. “Which ones would suit your purpose?”

Suddenly, Rodney’s mission was clear. “I’ll do it. I’ll find love. I’ll prove every girlfriend I had wrong.”

The matriarch pressed the doorknob into Rodney’s hands and wrapped his fingers around it. “I wish you the best. Safe travels.”

-

“I’m going to go insane,” Rodney said. He and Sheppard sat in the mess hall. Sheppard was eating sort-of Cheerios. Rodney was eating his heart and also a suitable excuse for pancakes. “It didn’t work!”

“What didn’t work?” Sheppard was enjoying his cereal more than he probably should’ve been.

“Kissing Katie! I thought she was my girlfriend! I thought we were meant to be!”

“Keyword ‘was’.” Sheppard had no sympathy.

“I can’t believe it. I went to the botany labs first and approached Katie and then said,  _ I have the kissing disease. It’s not contagious, but I need to lay one on you if you ever want Atlantis to ever have a ZMP again. _ ”

“I—what?”

“Then I kissed her really quickly, and it was terrible because she was too busy mouthing something that looked like  _ mononucleosis _ with a confused expression on her stupid face! More importantly, it was a bust. The doorkn—I mean, the  _ device _ didn’t glow or anything!”

“Did you really think it would work?” Sheppard spooned the last of his Cheerios in his mouth, licked his lips.

“Okay, so I couldn’t go through with the proposal, and everything went down in flames. Now we can’t even look at each other. Sue me!”

“Isn’t she a botanist?” Sheppard stood up, presumably to get more food.

“Everything I stand for is a lie!” Rodney yelled at Sheppard’s retreating back, forgetting to tell him to grab an extra muffin.

“You finally realized,” Ronon said, sitting down next to him. His tray was piled high with different types of fruit. Rodney was too upset to come up with an appropriately scathing insult.

“I almost got married to a botanist. A  _ botanist!  _ The only thing worse than those hippies is the eighth season of  _ Voltron!”  _ Rodney received a few glares across the cafeteria from where the mathematicians sat. “Oh, like I care about your opinions!”

Teyla walked through the entrance and scanned the mess hall, obviously looking for them. Ronon waved to her. As she approached, he tossed her something that resembled a peach, which she easily caught with her left hand and popped into her mouth. Some things came naturally to people, like athleticism or a certain hair’s ability to defy gravity. Idina Menzel would have been proud.

“Teyla,” Rodney asked, “do you think I’m capable of finding love?”

Ronon choked on his food. The bastard deserved it. Teyla froze, halfway in her chair. “I think… it’s a viable option,” she said carefully.

“Yeah, but here’s the thing. Atlantis desperately needs a ZPM.” Rodney shoveled pancakes into his mouth. “And imagine the effect that love might have on me.”

“I try not to,” Ronon said, still choking. Rodney pounded on his back, or tried to. It was like hitting a tree trunk. Hopefully, Teyla would see the gesture from across the table and would try to help him. She didn’t.

Sheppard came back carrying two muffins. They weren’t blueberry, but it was close enough.

“It’s like you know my secret desires,” Rodney said, mouth full of pancake and muffin.

“Please chew with your mouth closed,” said Teyla, which Rodney thought was unfair. It wasn’t like Ronon was the epitome of table manners either.

“Uh-huh,” Sheppard said. “It’s like we’re connected by fate, y’know. Sometimes when I lie in bed at night, it feels like you’re next to me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.”

“Oh yeah? What’s he saying?” Ronon said.

“The usual things. You look so good next to me. I wish we could be together forever. I love everything about you…” Sheppard leaned forward dramatically and whispered, “...Samantha Carter.”

Rodney sat up straight. “That’s it!” Everyone looked at him disbelievingly. “It’s at least worth a try.” He bussed his tray and marched out of the mess hall with dignity.

“Brush your teeth first!” Sheppard called after him. 

-

“Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea,” Rodney muttered, standing in front of Carter’s office door. The fact that he referred to her as Carter instead of Sam in his head was probably an indication of something but damned if he knew.

He marched in her office without knocking, and with all of his usual tact blurted out: “I need you to kiss me.”

A few years ago, Carter would have decked him and he would have gotten up close and personal with the floor before he could blame the situation on Sheppard. Now, she just blinked up at him from her desk and said, “Haven’t you ever had sensitivity training?”

“I sure have,” Rodney said. “I got myself through it by mentally calculating the trajectory of the instructors based on the force I would use to throw them across the room.”

Carter sighed. “That’s… just great, McKay.”

Rodney twisted his hands. “I already told you about my, uh, situation in the debriefing, and while that was fun and games, um, I actually need to try with some potential options.”

She went to open her mouth and argue indignantly, and Rodney suddenly found himself really tired. He held up his hands, and Carter stopped with some difficulty.

“Look,” Rodney said. “I was a jerk at the SGC, and I still am. A lesser man would say he’s sorry. I’m not sorry, except for the time I tried to pinch you on the ass. That was uncalled for. Also, you hit really hard. This thing is, and I know that you know this, we really need the ZPM. The matriarch lady said that the doorkn—device will light up or something when I’ve found The One. I really just need to scout out all of my options.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that Sheppard will call you a sissy if you don’t do it.” But Carter was smiling slightly, and wow, she was even prettier when she wasn’t in a flying rage.

Rodney grasped onto the lifeboat she threw him gratefully. “You know how Sheppard is.”

Carter stood up. “Alright. I’ll do it.” She maneuvered around the desk and faced him. “By the way, if you do anything, I’m going to file for workplace harassment.”

“That’s fair,” Rodney said, and she kissed him: quick, close-mouthed, chaste.

“Nothing?” she asked. Rodney dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out the doorknob.

“Nothing.”

“And that’s that,” she said, returning to her seat. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“The end of an era,” Rodney said, a little sadly, and left.

That night, Rodney went over to Sheppard’s quarters. The doors opened for him automatically. “It didn’t work,” he said glumly.

“Did you really think it would?” Sheppard was reading a comic book in bed. He had on a t-shirt that said, “I would make a Star Wars pun but I don’t want to Force it.”

“No.” Rodney sat down next to him. Sheppard was wearing boxers, but once you’ve been in the infirmary together dressed in nothing but those stupid paper robes, it tended to remove boundaries. Ronon tended to err on the side of commando. Rodney had always known Ronon was a free spirit but hadn’t wanted a visual representation.

“It’s just…” Rodney started. Sheppard moved over and made room on the bed. He really needed to get an armchair in his quarters. “I don’t want to talk about feelings. Feelings are stupid.”

Sheppard agreed vehemently, which for him translated to raising an eyebrow and placing his book facedown on the bedspread. Rodney took the book, bent over to the nightstand, and placed a bookmark inside. He refused to be an animal to reading material. Sheppard, used to Rodney’s neurotic tendencies, didn’t react to Rodney bending over him.

Rodney flopped back down on the bed, sighed. “I guess a part of me always thought that she was the one. It just seemed like…”

“She was the idealistic version of the woman you wanted and yet inherently knew you could never have because you internalized the notion that you’re somehow inadequate, and therefore demonstrated boorish and sexist behavior in order to seem superior?”

“Geez!” Rodney recoiled. “Did you minor in literature or something?”

“I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Rodney pulled out the doorknob and placed it on the bedspread between them. “I know this stupid device means nothing, and but it also means everything, y’know?”

“Not really.” Sheppard took a long finger and traced over the curves of the device. It glimmered under his touch, but it was an Ancient device after all, and they were all sluts for Sheppard. He said so.

“First the women, now the technology. If you’re jealous, McKay, just say so.”

Rodney sputtered. “I’m not jealous!”

“So you’re saying,” Sheppard said slowly, “that you wouldn’t take a fraction of the women that supposedly throw themselves at me? That you don’t want Atlantis to come to life under your hands like you’ve finally come home?”

“Is that what it’s like to be you?”

“No,” Sheppard laughed, and Rodney smacked his thigh. “For one, Atlantis doesn’t talk to me.”

“You always say that, but I haven’t had any sentient forms of the city appear in my dreams.”

“That was  _ once,  _ McKay.” Then, at Rodney’s glare, “Twice. Three times! No, no more times! Stop tickling me! No! Stop!”

Rodney leaned back. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

“Yeah, that you have no mercy for the helpless,” Sheppard said sourly, having fallen on his stomach and lay sprawled on the bed. “Are you a teenager?”

“I was never a teenager.” Rodney sighed. “No time for being stupid in college.”

“You’re so morose today.” Sheppard sat up in the lotus position that Rodney would only hope to achieve one day. “Also, you’re so wrong. What happened to the acerbic McKay we know and love?”

“A device was given to me and is telling me who not to love. Oh my god, I  _ am  _ a teenager. I should be in one of those horse movies.”

“But Daddy,” Sheppard batted his eyes, “don’t take Sparky away! I feel a connection between us!”

“I hate you. Never say Daddy again when I’m in your vicinity.”

“What, you like it?” Sheppard waggled his eyebrows.

Rodney couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are we friends again?”

“Because of my natural charm.” Sheppard touched the top of his head. “Also, you’re jealous of my hair.” He leaned forward. “I’m sorry that…” He paused uncomfortably, now that they were dealing with feelings. “The device hasn’t lit up for you yet.”

“And Carter,” Rodney prompted.

Sheppard snorted his ugly laugh. “No, I’m definitely not sorry about her. That poor woman.”

“You’re a great friend, Sheppard,” Rodney drawled. “Best friend of the year. Maybe I should kiss  _ you _ instead.”

“Yeah.” Sheppard sat there for a second, smiling a stupid smile, then glanced at the clock. “Now get the hell out of my quarters.”

“That’s fair,” Rodney said, and left.

-

Rodney and Sheppard found themselves captured on an excursion to P3X-6473. It was a first contact mission, so while they weren’t expecting everything to go well, they definitely hadn’t expected firearms pointed at them the instant they stepped through the stargate. At least, Rodney hadn’t; but by the looks of it Ronon was also caught off-guard, and if something managed to catch Ronon off-guard Rodney figured he was off the hook.

The natives quickly split them up into two and two and threw them into cells. Rodney yelled things after them, but he was mostly drowned out by the sound of the deadbolt falling into place. Still, it was worth a try.

“Your mother’s a whore!”

The word ‘whore’ echoed through the now-empty hallway, so all that came back was  _ whore, whore, whore.  _ Excluding the last consonant, it was almost in the Christmas spirit.

“It’s no use, McKay.” Sheppard slumped against the cell’s mossy walls. Some things were universal: Plank’s Constant, the lack of good coffee in the Pegasus Galaxy, and Bryophyta on vertical surfaces.

Rodney was still standing. “I wonder why every time we get split up, we get placed together.”

“It’s because we’re the most annoying.” Sheppard stretched luxuriously. “Too bad they took away our packs. I have a pillow in there.”

“Say again?”

“A pillow. We get kidnapped so often and the time before our next scheduled check-ins are always  _ so  _ long. I get tired, you know.” Rodney gaped at him. “Plus, it’s boring. You can only play Prime Not Prime so many times before it’s Spare Time War Crime.”

“You know, you’re right.” Rodney sat down next to him, wincing at the damp floor because of course it was.

“Did you know there’s a pattern for prime numbers?” Sheppard asked.

“Really? What is it?”

“I don’t know. I skimmed the article.”

“I hate you.”

They sat in silence. Finally, Sheppard offered, “Two truths and a lie?”

“What is this, sleepover?” Sheppard remained silent. “You know what, fine. Who’s going first?”

Sheppard produced a coin. Rodney groaned. “I bet you have one under your pillow.”

“It helps me decide which side of the bed to get out of in the morning.”

“There’s no wrong side of the bed if it’s dictated by the inexorability of chance,” Rodney said dryly.

“You got it. Heads is me, you’re tails.”

“Why am I always tails?” Rodney complained, but Sheppard had already flipped the coin. He caught it, flipped it over on the back of his hand, and squinted at it.

“Tails.”

“Of course. Okay, let me think.”

“Take your time.”

“What would I do without your generosity?” Rodney picked the knots out of his bootlaces. He might as well get some tedious chore done. “Here they are: I have an unrequited crush on Samantha Carter. I’m hypoglycemic. My father was an actor.”

“That’s easy,” Sheppard said. “The third one’s obviously a lie.”

“That’s what you thought,” Rodney said sadly. “Carson used his voodoo a few weeks ago and said that under no certain circumstances do I have hypoglycemia. I thought it was time for you to know.”

Sheppard rested his hand on Rodney’s knee. “Thank you for coming out to me. I know that took a look of courage.” His earnest expression held as he met Rodney’s eyes, and then his lips twitched.

“Buzz off.” Rodney was still pretty sure that Carson was wrong. “Your turn.”

While Sheppard considered his options, Rodney said, “Finally, a time to learn about the mysterious John Sheppard. Did you know that it was four years before that I knew that you had a brother? And that was because Ronon told me. I don’t know many things about you: why you wear that stupid wristband, what hair product you use.”

“I don’t use hair products!” Sheppard protested.

“Oh, please. The word that comes to mind when I look at it is voluminous. You couldn’t have achieved that effect without outside help. It’s simple physics.”

“Your physics is wrong, then.”

Rodney gasped. “My physics is  _ never  _ wrong! Besides, you’re stalling. I want to hear your truths.”

“Fine.” Sheppard ran a hand through said hair. “I wear the wristband because I like to. I finished  _ War and Peace  _ within the first three years after we got to Altantis. I’m gay.”

Rodney was stumped. “Those are all equally implausible choices.”

“You have to pick one.” Sheppard wiped his forehead. To be fair, the cell was getting somewhat toasty.

“I think each of these is equally unlikely to be true. I know for a fact that you’ve never finished  _ War and Peace,  _ but there  _ has  _ to be a tragic hero story behind the wristband.”

Sheppard smirked at him. “Give up?”

“Absolutely not.” Rodney paused. “The book. The book is the lie.”

“Guess again.” 

“Oh, that is just not fair! Of course the Colonel has a taste for Russian literature! It’s the wristband, then.”

“Yep,” said Sheppard. “You got it.”

“Oh,” Rodney said, then: “Oh!”

“Yeah.” Sheppard traced the tiles on the wall.

“But…” Rodney could feel the room tilting around him, then weakly: “Kirk?”

“I’m not the intergalactic playboy you seem to think I am,” Sheppard said.

To his embarrassment, Rodney struggled to recall a time when Sheppard actually took on one of his female admirer’s offers. “Chaya!”

“Funny how glowy tentacles can be a major turn-off. Besides, Ascended Ancients don’t have genders. Chaya explained it to me.”

“That sounds fake,” Rodney accused.

Sheppard spread his hands. “Don’t believe me.”

Rodney jumped to his feet, shoelaces untied. “Wait, that’s it!” 

Sheppard craned his neck up. “What’s what?”

“My soulmate! Maybe she’s not a, well, she!”

“Do Wraith have genders?” Sheppard mused. “Oh, yeah: queens. I don’t think the Genii do, though. I have a theory that they reproduce like reptiles.”

Rodney shook his head. “You are not helpful in the least. I meant that maybe my soulmate’s a boy!”

Sheppard arched an eyebrow. “You’re gay?”

“No, not gay. I like breasts. Maybe I like both.” Rodney started waving his hands, because  _ wow,  _ he really must be a genius. “Is it too late to have a sexual identity crisis at thirty-five?”

Sheppard snorted. “You wish you were thirty-five.” Rodney gave him the finger.

“Bisexual,” Rodney said, trying it out. “Bisexual.”

“That’s it, you got it,” Sheppard said encouragingly, but in a sarcastic way. “The first step to recovery is admission.”

“Don’t you see,” Rodney said, getting excited, “this opens up so many possibilities!” Then he realized. “There are so many possibilities. Oh my god, I’m  _ never _ going to find out who my soulmate is! I’ll never have my full ZPM!”

“Oh, no!” Sheppard taunted. “You’ll never get to cradle it close and stroke its glorious casing!”

“But it sounds so bad when you say it like that. Can’t a man love a machine without judgment?”

“Rodney, if you want to shove a ZPM up your ass, just know that I  _ will _ support you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rodney said absentmindedly. “You know, that was pretty clever of you, using your sexuality as a hint for me to expand my search to other genders.”

“That was definitely what I intended,” Sheppard said. “Yep,” then, “Oh, I think I hear the Marines coming to break us out. Carter was really efficient this time. It’s, uh”—he glanced over—“a shame about her. Too soon?”

Rodney heaved a forlorn sigh. “At least she still sends people to rescue me. The hope for our love isn’t completely lost. It might not be true, but we’ll make it work.”

“Excuse me?” Lorne said, standing outside the cell with four other Marines.

“I’m not dating Sheppard!” Rodney yelped.

“Sure,” said Lorne.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's probably a lesson to be learned about how patience is virtue or something, but I wouldn't recommend internalizing it. 32 of you poor souls waited 6 months for an abandoned fic, and today I got off my ass and wrote the 2nd chapter in about 2 and a half hours. No brain cells were harmed in the making of this chapter, mainly because they're entirely untouched. 8.1.20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Birds was going to be my last SGA fic, yada yada. First of all, I’d like to say I hate all of you. You left kudos, nice comments, quoted funny parts of my story back to me, subscribed, and never left annoying comments pestering/ordering me to finish the story. The sole exception is Eos1969, who very gently asked me a few times, but she betaed my fic for another fandom AS WELL AS THIS CHAPTER, so she has the right. All of you were utterly respectful, model citizens of fandom. Absolutely disgraceful. Therefore, as my last ‘screw you’, have the second and last chapter of a fic I started eight months ago. I hope you choke on it.

A few days later, Ronon’s birthday fell on a Wednesday. Rodney actually wasn’t sure if Ronon _had_ a birthday. When prompted, Ronon simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “On Sateda, we marked down our day of birth on a piece of paper, and threw it away when the next year came,” which didn’t really answer much in terms of when and why. 

“Do you know when your birthday even is?” Rodney had asked, and Ronon flicked his fingers and said, “Shoo-fly, don’t bother me,” to which Rodney stomped away rather than continue the conversation.

So it was Ronon’s birthday. The Marines had planned him a surprise party. It wasn’t _really_ a surprise party per se, because most of them were sure that Ronon would go into fight or flight mode when surprised and demolish the gym—and most importantly, them. Not that Ronon didn’t usually do that on a daily basis, but at least those beatings were scheduled.

Rodney was at the gym helping to decorate the room, _decorate_ in a loose sense of the word. Some of the Marines were there putting up decorations. A few scientists too, mainly the biologists, who had nothing better to do with their time anyway. Rodney would tell them to go back to their labs, but it was better that they were here than there. Damage control. Teyla was helping there too, unlike Rodney, who loitered behind her small frame and tried to avoid the increasingly irritated looks she shot at him.

Rodney avoided the gym on principle, but especially because Ronon was there. Ronon was great, but people who called him a gentle giant were either deluded or suffering from a concussion. Ronon was immensely capable of great feats of strength, could put massive amounts of food away without the requirement of utensils, and had a disturbingly firm grasp of chess. 

Rodney, who was intelligent and had many other things to do besides learn how to become a chessmaster, had no wish to challenge Ronon at chess on his home turf, especially since a match between Rodney and John was a toss-up between two, dare he say it, amateurs.

Teyla squinted at Rodney when he told her this, pausing in the process of hanging up multicolored streamers around the gym. “I’m not sure I am comfortable with you telling me your opinions about our teammates behind their back.”

“Oh, please,” Rodney scoffed, tripping over a ladder lying on the floor. “Sheppard’s not here. Besides, it’s not like you guys don’t trash talk me behind my back all of the time.”

Teyla’s eyes flickered away from his face. “Uh—”

Ronon chose that moment to enter the gym and froze just inside the doorway. His eyes flickered over the decorations, which were mostly done at this point, no thanks to Rodney, and ran toward Stackhouse, who unconsciously let go of the balloon he had filled up. It flew around the room like Rodney’s worst attempt at flying a puddlejumper, squeaking all through its path, and hit Markham in the face. In an attempt to create a diversion, Chuck whipped off a blanket that covered a table laden with drinks. It worked.

“Holy shit,” Ronon said gleefully, using a phrase that he learned from Sheppard, “I’m going to get so smashed.”

And they did. Rodney was among them solely because Sheppard wasn’t. If Sheppard wasn’t going to bother showing his face and simultaneously leave Rodney unsupervised, then he deserved to deal with the aftermath.

Because the threat of being pulverized by the Wraith was miniscule at that point in time, the only person who stayed sober was Kavanaugh. Say what you will about the Atlantians being crazy genius workaholics, but they knew how to fucking party.

Someone found a speaker and blasted music, the loud bass shaking the floor. It wasn’t really music, at least not what a classical music listener such as Rodney typically classified as music, but a few drinks worked wonders on his ability to care.

There was also a distinct lack of John Sheppard. The man was elusive on the best of days, but Rodney would’ve thought that he’d participate. This was Sheppard, though, so maybe he just wasn’t informed. For a man who was supposedly the head of the Marines, the man had a startling lack of knowledge for what went on behind the scenes. 

Three of the four members of SGA-1 _were_ there, which meant 75% of their team was currently getting drunk out of their minds. Rodney had brain cells to spare, and although his job required the full and unhindered functionality of most, he could stand to lose a few. Teyla swatted the fourth drink out of his hand, and Rodney may have shed a tear or two, because that was his _vodka with chocolate syrup_ on the floor. Both cost an arm and a leg in terms of the Atlantis currency system, and it had been handed to him cost-free. He vowed to turn off her hot water for the next week, but when she handed him a bottle of cold water and forced him to drink it, he reduced her sentence to five days because he was generous.

The loud music pounded his brain, but even the flickering lights didn’t hinder the following events: 

Rodney distinctly remembered a game of Spin the Bottle being played, but refused to acknowledge his participation.

Rodney kissed Lorne, much to both of their chagrin. Lorne tasted like peanut butter. Rodney distinctly knew that Parrish was in charge of growing legumes in the greenhouse, but as Kermit the Frog said, that’s none of my business.

Rodney also saw some of the Marines do their best interpretations of stripping—some better than others—but averted his eyes when several of his scientists joined them. Zelenka wasn’t among them as far as Rodney could tell, which was fortunate as Rodney wouldn’t have been able to look the man in the eye afterwards.

Rodney’s last memory of the night was standing atop the righted ladder and yelling about how there was a doorknob in his pocket and how he was probably going to be forever alone, but Miko yelled, “Hear hear!” in the background and everyone else joined her, so everyone probably misheard him and just assumed that he was making a toast to Ronon. It was like the Mandela Effect, or something. Rodney’s head was spinning to put too much thought into coherency, and the night faded into black right afterwards.

-

Rodney woke up in his bed the next morning, having no idea how he’d gotten there. He wasn’t overly concerned with the particulars as he felt a customary twist in his gut and he fell out of bed and ran for the toilet. Between violent bouts of throwing up his guts, he spared a thought for who had brought him back. It was nice of them. Rodney would have to thank them in some way. Maybe, Rodney thought as he upchucked the contents of his stomach, he’d give them a thank you card, or maybe a tasteful gift. Rodney wasn’t sure exactly what a tasteful gift entailed, but he was a genius, so he’d hopefully figure it out.

When he was relatively sure he wasn’t going to vomit on the floor, Rodney peeled himself off the floor, washed his mouth, and took a shower. He took off his clothes partway through and tossed his sopping shirt, pants, and underwear on the bathroom tiles, because he was an idiot. 

An indeterminable amount of time later when he felt like a human again, he got out of the shower and gazed at the clothes on the floor with no small amount of dismay. He couldn’t take them to the dryers, mainly because he’d get laughed out of the laundry room before he’d be able to set the wash cycle.

Rodney heaved a deep sigh. After wringing out out the clothes as best as he could in the shower, he retrieved the rope that he had in his room under the bed in the second drawer on the left for secret reasons, and strung it up, running it from wall to wall in his best imitation of a clothesline. Then, because he didn’t own clothespins on account of them being wood and having the potential for splinters, he attacked his drawer of paperclips, separated them from each other as best as he could, and hung up his clothes. That didn’t hold them up, of course, so he eyed the materials around his room, cracked his knuckles, and got to work.

Twenty minutes later, Sheppard knocked on the door to his room and entered, and he found Rodney staring up at a contraption that extended around the room. Unbeknownst to Sheppard, what had begun as some innocent rope and seventy-three paper clips had gained sentience and transformed into an… _appliance_ that wrapped around every single piece of furniture. There were blinking keypads located at various points, as well as several pneumatics and what looked like a disemboweled oven. 

Rodney, dressed in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, sat on the tiny amount of space available on the bed and looked out unto the mess of his creation with a 1000 yard stare.

“So,” Sheppard said, politely ignoring the steam that blew into his face at irregular intervals from the pump nearest to him. “Busy morning?”

“I just wanted to dry my clothes…”

“We have machines designed just for that purpose.” John ducked under what resembled a Newton’s Cradle on a human-sized scale. “This might blow your mind, but they’re called dryers.”

Rodney turned to him with something in his expression that he hoped was desperation. “This is why I don’t drink and develop. I think I’ve invented a new branch of engineering, but at what cost?”

John was silent. “I agree. This room is a lost cause. Do you wanna put on some clothes and get lunch?”

“Okay,” said Rodney miserably. “But I can’t reach my closet.”

“I’ll get some of my stuff,” John said, “but you gotta promise to return it.”

“Fine.” Rodney put his face in his hands. “Just make sure it fits me.”

“Be right back…” John did his best to navigate his way out the room. He had a close call with a bucket filled with various amphibians, but he leapfrogged over it and booked it out of the room.

Rodney ogled his creation some more. Sheppard came back, stood right outside the door, and chucked some clothes at Rodney. They landed on his face. 

“Why?”

“I got you a shirt and pants. You’re going to fend for yourself with underwear, because you’re not going commando.”

Rodney heaved a deep sigh, reached under his pillow, and pulled out a pair of clean boxers. Sheppard shot him a horrified gaze.

“Why you gotta judge?” Rodney said. “Now, look away or close the door. Preferably both.”

“Christ, fine.” Sheppard slammed the door behind him.

Rodney maneuvered into the (black) pants and (black) shirt as best as he could. He wasn’t qualified to give opinions as a fashionista, but the only aspect that redeemed the outfit was that the shirt said, _Are you WiFi? Cause I think we have a connection._

“Sheppard!” Rodney howled, and he heard Sheppard laughing right outside the door.

After seriously debating leaving the shirt behind and going to the mess shirtless, Rodney’s lack of confidence in his weight outweighed the embarrassment. He ducked three swinging books duct-taped to a curtain rod and shuffled out the door with dignity. 

Sheppard laughed at his expression, with reason.

They walked down the hallway, entered the mess, and got food. There were a few strange expressions thrown at Rodney, who sat down at their regular table populated by Ronon and Teyla and slammed his tray down.

“I am filled with rage,” Rodney seethed.

“How cute,” Zelenka said, passing by, and patted Rodney on the head.

“I’m going to toilet paper your part of the lab!” Rodney yelled after him. “With one-ply, this time! No more wasting quality rolls on you!”

“Jesus, McKay, calm down,” Sheppard said, sitting down next to him. “You’re scaring the anthropologists.”

“Good!” Rodney said, and aggressively ate his oatmeal. 

Teyla looked at Sheppard, who was trying not to laugh, that bastard. “What is this about?”

“Rodney’s being, what we call in the modern world, a pissbaby.”

“Does this have anything to do with his shirt?” Teyla said, biting into an apple.

“It’s stupid and now I look like an emo teen with a penchant for shopping at Hot Topic!” Rodney wailed. “Plus, now people think I’m Sheppard’s gay lover!”

“Not gay,” Sheppard said automatically. “Wait, I mean. Uh.”

“Also not your lover,” Rodney pointed out.

Ronon waggled his eyebrows. “But you could be.” 

Teyla smacked his arm.

“What does _that_ mean?” Rodney squawked.

“Nothing,” Teyla said. “Eat your oatmeal.”

“Fine. But not because you _told_ me to.”

“You’re very independent,” Sheppard soothed. “A true big boy.”

Rodney choked. So did Teyla.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Ronon said, narrowing his eyes.

"How should I know, Ronon?” John said, lips twitching, “Unlike the Spice Girls, I don't know what I really really want."

Rodney got up, bussed his tray, took off the shirt and threw it at Sheppard, and left the mess.

He ignored Sheppard for exactly two hours, busying himself with taking down the contraption as best as he could, which was difficult as it seemed to have evolved into a machination three times its original size with twice the efficiency. Sheppard found a shirtless Rodney in his room banging on a metal pan with a wrench and yelling at his creation, “Listen up! I’m not scared of you, you objectively very terrifying machine!”

“Is this a bad time?” Sheppard asked from outside the door.

Rodney hit at the nearest metal claw reaching for him. “No, this is fine,” Rodney said sarcastically. “I’m not preventing any sort of robot rebellion right now. Come right in!”

“I think I’ll stay where I am,” Sheppard said, eyeing the claws that sprouted from the air vent. “It looks like you got it handled.”

Rodney leaped over them and attacked the vent with the pan. _“Die!”_

“Do you want me to call for backup?” Sheppard asked. “This seems like something serious, y’know, like life or death.”

“I’ve got it handled.” Rodney screamed a death scream. “I’ve learned from the best, also known as Ronon. I’m _Rambo!”_

Sheppard backed away from the doorframe. _“Oh_ -kay, I’m just gonna—” He turned tailed and fled.

“Yeah, Neo,” Rodney screamed to the countless tech arms trying to force their way out the window, and smashed his sentient lamp into a million pieces. “Tell us when the Matrix comes back online!”

Thirty minutes after _that,_ Sheppard came back, looking marginally less frightened than before, although he did peek thoroughly at the disabled, broken, unmoving, and most importantly defeated contents of Rodney’s room before entering. “The command staff just held an emergency meeting. We unanimously decided that you aren’t allowed to go near alcohol anymore, if this”—he gestured to the wrecked room—“is what happens when you’re hungover.”

“Fair,” Rodney said. He was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, which was now spattered with holes. 

“We also agreed that you need a new hobby besides accidentally animating previously un-animatable…” John looked at Rodney for reference. Rodney shrugged. “Pieces of tech. Therefore…”

Sheppard presented Rodney with what was obviously an electric, gift-wrapped, piano keyboard. 

“Oh my god,” Rodney said, wrapping paper crinkling in his fists, “you got this for _me?”_

“Who else…?”

Rodney, after sitting up so abruptly that he almost fell out off the bed, snatched it out of Sheppard’s hands, did something complicated with his hands and snidely informed Sheppard that it was part of every self-respecting musician’s warm-up routine. 

He also said the name of the exercise, which sounded an awful lot like ‘Spaghetti-O’, but Sheppard wasn’t going to judge.

 _“Arpeggio,”_ Rodney sighed the sigh of the long-weary, poising his fingers above the keyboard, “honestly, it’s like you have no music education at _all…”_ and launched into an excellent piano rendition of the La Campanella by Liszt.

Rodney finished, and looked at Sheppard with something akin to adoration.

Sheppard swallowed and nodded and backed away, because he probably wasn’t sure of the proper protocol to assume when a member of the senior staff team was on the verge of tears.

“I hate you marginally less than my scientists,” Rodney gasped.

“It’s just a piano?” Sheppard said tentatively.

 _“Just a piano?”_ Rodney yelled, turning an interesting shade of purple. “ _Just a—?”_

-

Unbeknownst to Rodney, after Rodney had stalked away from the table, Teyla turned to glare at John and said, “You made him sad.”

“What?” John said. “Rodney created his weird sentient machine before I insulted him at breakfast. I’m not completely to blame!”

“No matter who’s at fault, when Rodney gets sad,” Teyla said slowly, like she was speaking to a bel’shak or a particularly slow military man, “he invents things which inadvertently destroy the city. I have fought too hard and too long for my people to have a safe home, and you”—she stabbed John with her finger—“will not ruin it. Go fix it.” John stared at her. “Now!”

“But I didn’t even _do_ anything this time!” John protested, hurt.

Teyla jabbed a finger at her temple. “I can _feel_ it.” She turned on her heel and stalked away.

John stood there alone, thinking to himself where the hell he could obtain a keyboard. Then he groaned and smacked his forehead. “I am going to owe the physics department _so_ many Reese’s Pieces.”

-

Rodney carried the piano with him everywhere, and no one dared tell him no. Its main fixture was at the labs, but Zelenka eventually banned it because Rodney’s prowess at all types of classical music reduced several of his assistants to tears.

“I’m so talented,” Rodney bragged to everyone he knew.

Simpson took a plug out of her ear. “Yes. Talented.”

Rodney played the piano everywhere he could. By then, Sheppard had told basically everyone about what had been dubbed as McKay’s Monster in a direct nod to Frankenstein. Rodney would have discouraged it if he hadn’t been so pleased. Plus, it had the added benefit of giving Rodney clout among the Marines and the bulkier scientists. When Rodney’s fingers even gave a hint at twitching toward a wrench, the entire lab flinched in the most spectacular way.

“We’ve created a monster,” Rodney overheard Miko complaining to Chuck in the hallway.

“He needs to be stopped.”

“But how?” Miko wrung her hands, and promptly stopped when Rodney approached her line of sight. “So, about the biological obfuscators—”

“Wow, sounds like a great idea,” Rodney said, walking by and knowing full well she was faking and wanted to see her squirm. “Leave the blueprints on my desk in my office tomorrow.”

“McKay, you don’t have an office,” Miko started to say, but Rodney was already gone.

-

SGA-1 was in the mess hall again, sans Ronon, who said that if he had to suffer through McKay’s playing, he was going to indiscriminately ram the piano up someone’s ass. It was telling that Teyla’s expression was less disapproving and more, _Can I join you?_

“Anyway,” babbled Rodney, hands flying over the keys, “this particular sonata is fascinating, as it modulates through several keys in a relatively short amount of time—”

Lorne turned to Sheppard desperately. “Do it. Please.”

Sheppard looked at Teyla. “Do I have to?” 

“Please,” Teyla said, on the verge of tears. “It’s the only way.”

Sheppard heaved a deep sigh and sang, in time to the music, “I love Rodney, la la la, for reasons previously unknown, I _love_ Rodney McKay!”

“No, you don’t,” Rodney said, not looking up from his piano. “All I said was that I hate you less than everyone else. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

John elbowed Lorne. “See? He doesn’t love me. Your idea didn’t work.”

Lorne looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Right away, sir.” He ran away from the table like a coward.

“Wait a motherfucking second,” Rodney said, processing. “You said you _love_ me?”

“Teyla,” Sheppard yelled, “go, go, fucking _go!”_ Without further preamble, Sheppard grabbed Rodney’s face and kissed him. For the first time, a certain Ancient device in Rodney’s pocket warmed up and vibrated. 

Sheppard pulled off and said in the least surprised voice ever, “Oh my god, I can’t believe it. Is that a doorknob in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” at the same time Rodney wailed, “Oh my god, I guess I _do_ love you! How do I never see these things coming!”

“This happens to you often? Anyway, to be honest, neither do I. My distraction tactic failed and succeeded in two very spectacular ways.” Sheppard gave a thumbs up to someone behind Rodney. Rodney didn’t look, but if he had, he would’ve seen Teyla carting off his piano.

“Wow,” Rodney said, staring at the doorknob and ignoring Sheppard and also Teyla, who was fleeing with the piano as fast as her little legs could take her. “They’re not as stupid as I first thought.”

“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment,” said Sheppard, and easily avoided the responding swat.

“Who would’ve thought—”

“Please shut up,” Sheppard said, laughing, “you’re harshing my vibe,” and kissed him again.

-

“So it isn’t really true?” Carter said, one eventful month later at a command staff meeting, leaning across the table to hold a clip of ammo to Sheppard’s mouth to represent a microphone. “Are you and McKay really having a competition to see who can make half of the galaxy fall in love with them?”

“No,” John said sourly, pushing the clip aside. “And put that back in the armory. The last thing we need is Ronon starting a collection.”

“He’s just pissy because I won the last round,” Rodney called, and across the room, Ronon flipped him the bird. “Why’s Ronon even in the command staff?”

“I wanna be.”

The staff, always eager for drama to ease the monotony, _ooooh_ ed appreciatively.

“We should probably give the matriarch of PY4-5172 a nice present,” Carter mused, still lying stomach-down and ass-up on the table. “Maybe a tasteful card.”

“How about a liberated electric keyboard?” someone called out. There were snickers from the peanut gallery.

Rodney sniffed and got up from his chair. He still didn’t know where his precious gift had been hidden, yet handled himself with dignity. Someday, Zelenka would pay. Rodney wasn’t certain how, but he was positive in his involvement. “C’mon, Sheppard, let’s get out of here.” 

Sheppard complied, chair crashing to the floor behind him as he removed his feet from the table and stood. “Yeah, we don’t need these losers.”

Rodney slipped a hand into the back pocket of Sheppard’s BDUs, and together they sashayed out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McShep then walk into the sunset and fornicate with great enthusiasm offscreen. John can't believe he's somehow roped himself into being McKay's one and only for the rest of his life, while Rodney's mainly glad he's finally getting some.
> 
> I have other UNPOSTED wips, but they're mainly just unfinished E-rated stuff so I'll be repurposing them for other fandoms. No, Eos1969, you cannot make me finish them. I posted my 16k Big Bang fic [Birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591855), and now I'm done! Leave a comment if you laughed! If you didn't, don't!! Goodbye, SGA fandom!! Please read Birds so it's the last fic you read from me instead of this! It has awesome art drawn by my partner mific!!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is mermaidmayonnaise, my twitter is mermaidmayo. Name association, amiright?


End file.
